Author/Zhang Fuxian Photo/From the Internet
The locust flowers in the yard bloomed, but there was a "buzzing" beeping sound from the trees, originally thought that the bees were collecting honey, but if you look closely, there is a honeycomb hanging from the branches, and almost all the horses and bees are busy flying among the flowers. It was another year when the locust flowers were fragrant, but we did not dare to climb the locust tree and pick up the locust flowers. Every day I long for the fragrance of locust flowers, and when the locust flowers are fragrant, I can eat the egg locust flower noodles fried by niang, and the locust flower corn silver ear porridge cooked by niang. However, now that the acacia flowers are fragrant and my delicacies are all in vain, my mother is a little displeased with these "new neighbors".
At that time, I had just turned seven years old, and in the words of the old people, it was called "seven and eight years old everyone is annoyed, chickens and dogs are not waiting to see" (Lu Southwest dialect: dislike), I was in a naughty and naughty time, the locust tree honeycomb attracted my attention, naturally became the target of several of our naughty children.
Uncle Ermao, Brother Min, and I stood in the courtyard, looking curiously at the honeycomb. The gray-white honeycomb is about 15 cm in diameter, and the lower part is stinged with many large wasps, and a group of horse bees "buzz" around it.
"It's like a bee making a sound, but it's much bigger than a bee." Min's brother stared at the honeycomb for a moment.
"It's not the same as the bees. A bee can only sting once, and after stinging once, it dies. The wasp is different, it can be stung and much more toxic. Uncle Ermao is a little older, and naturally he is "well-informed". My brother and I threw up our tongues.
On the opposite wall of the honeycomb, leaning against a pile of straw. Uncle Ermao took a look at it and counted his heart.
"Let's play with the honeycomb by smashing that ant with the dirt and stones." A few of us counted uncle Two Mao's "ghost ideas" a lot.
"No, in case the horse bee stings us?" Min's brother became worried.
"It's all right. After smashing the honeycomb, we hid in the straw nest, and the wasp couldn't find us at all. Uncle Ermao said with great certainty.
"But... Oh yes, Grandma told me to come home early for lunch. Min Brother rolled his eyes, and he found a reason. He wanted to slip away.
"Coward! What a coward! I saw the calculation in his mind and deliberately provoked him. Min's brother was not deceived, he turned around and ran away— he was careful since he was a child, and later became the principal of a township primary school.
"Ignore him. Let's do it! ”
Just do it! We collected a pile of stone tiles and placed them on the outside of the straw. When everything was ready, I threw the bricks forcefully in the direction of the honeycomb, and the bricks trickled through the branches and leaves of the locust tree. Didn't hit! But the wasps realized the danger, and the sound of "buzzing" suddenly became louder, and we immediately burrowed into the straw, covered our mouths, and laughed scornfully.
The "buzzing" sound is smaller! We quietly poked out our little heads, and the wasps had long since quieted down.
"Whoosh! Sou! Two more "grenades" were thrown at the honeycomb. There is a "edge ball" that hits the honeycomb.
Amazing! The wasps were like frying pans, scurrying around, looking for targets, but we had already burrowed into the straw nest. Safe and sound! I threw up my tongue at Uncle Ermao.
My courage grew, and I stuck my head out to see what was going on outside. One wasp unceremoniously "bit" one of my foreheads, the other stinged me on the back of the head, and I cried "wow" a sound.
The horses and bees were quiet, and the only people left in the yard were me who was crying and crying, and Uncle Ermao, who was helpless. The mother heard the movement and immediately ran out of the kitchen. Uncle Ermao knew that he had caused trouble, and he was frightened and hid.
"Little Ancestor, how did you poke up the honeycomb?" While scolding me, my mother plucked a horse bee vegetable (Lu Southwest dialect: purslane) from the corner of the yard, mashed it into a paste in the stone mortar, and smeared it on the front of my forehead and the back of my head.
"When your father and your brother come back, they will avenge you!" Niang's eyes were red, she looked at the ant honeycomb with hatred, and gritted her teeth.
The night gradually opened. The moon had not yet risen, and the dark sky was full of stars. The second brother tied a thick wire to a bamboo pole and wrapped a rag dipped in kerosene at the end. He then had his father turn off the lights in the yard.
The second brother polished a match and lit a rag. Then he raised the bamboo pole and extended the fire to the honeycomb, and the sound of "buzzing" sounded again. I was scared and hid behind my second brother.
"Don't be afraid, the wasps can't find us, they're in the light, we're in the dark." The second brother gave me encouragement and cheers.
Sure enough, the wasps looked around for targets to attack, but their range was small, only around torches. The second brother rotated the torch and chased after the wasps around the honeycomb, and the sound of "Bibi peeling" was heard in the light of the fire, and the honeycomb became a scorched black appearance.
The next morning, I got up early from bed and ran into the yard. Under the locust tree, there was a scorched wasp, and several of them were not dead, but they had also become "wounded soldiers" with broken limbs and broken arms, struggling painfully on the ground. I reached out and crushed them one by one—for them death was the best destination for suffering.
Uncle Ermao stabbed the ant honeycomb with a stick and went to the village clinic to change two pencils, the black one belonged to me, and the red one he left behind. I wanted to ask him for the red one, but he wouldn't give it to me. He and I turned our faces and didn't play with him for days.
At noon that day, my mother specially cooked a pot of locust flower fungus mushroom stew chicken soup for me, and the chicken soup was really fragrant! To this day, it is still a feeling of fresh fragrance in the teeth and cheeks.
I finally tasted the long-awaited aroma of locust flowers, but somehow, my heart felt a little bit of loss and pain.
About the author: Zhang Fuxian, formerly known as Zhang Huifeng, is a geography teacher at Chengwu Bole No.1 Middle School in Shandong Province, an insignificant little author. He likes to record the joys and sorrows of life with poetry, and use words to describe the good, evil, beauty and ugliness of the world. Knowing that the writing is clumsy, although the top kung fu is done, it is a skill of the end, and I sincerely hope that the teacher and friend will be correct. He is a contracted writer of original Chinese novels, and has written the novella "Auspicious and His Companions", which has millions of words of poetry, prose and novels, which are scattered on various online platforms.
One Point No. Selected Works of Zhang Huifeng